


The Jar

by Hades_Aidoneus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, BAMF Javert, But they love him anyway, Eventual Javert/Jean Valjean, Fluff and Angst, Humour?, Javert's co-workers are so done, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Oblivious Javert, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Swearing, Valjean gives Javert a lot of strange feelings, Work In Progress, no betas we die like men, valvert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hades_Aidoneus/pseuds/Hades_Aidoneus
Summary: The inspector's weird obsession with Jean Valjean has not gone unnoticed. So what to do when your boss rages about this elusive criminal? Buy a jar and throw money in it every time Javert mentions him! The problem is it's only the second week and they already can't see the bottom...
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 58





	1. About a hard life of inspector's assistant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgapeCrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgapeCrow/gifts).



> This is my first fanfiction since... 2013? Anyway, it's been too long. The whole idea was a joke I made on a Sewers of Paris discord server and, well, here we are. Please, leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it.

* * *

“He’s at it again.”  
  
These were the words that greeted officer Rayne as he stepped into the police station building. Basset, a short, energetic, dark-skinned man who was now drinking what was probably his third coffee today, smiled at him, slightly exasperated.  
  
“How did this one start?” Rayne asked, greeting some of his fellow officers and looking around the station. Everything was in order, it was calm even, at least for a Monday morning. That is, it would be so if not for the angry voices coming from the commissioner’s office. One, sounding distinctly older, was relatively tame, seemingly trying to alleviate the situation. The second one, almost bark-like in its tone, was passionately explaining something. The only word that could be heard clearly — although maybe that had something to do with the fact that everyone _expected_ to hear that word — was Valjean.  
  
“He had another run-in with him or at least someone who he _thinks_ looks like Valjean. And old Chabouillet doesn’t want him to focus too much on that whole mess. Says that he should be working on his active cases. God knows he took too many of them, the workaholic.”  
  
Basset shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. It was nothing new, really. Everyone at the station knew about the inspector's strange obsession with Jean Valjean.  
  
It started years ago, when Javert, then an officer like them, helped in apprehending the criminal. Later, there were some complications, escape attempts, broken parole, false identity, a whole bunch of things that made the case so much more complicated. But Javert, ever the diligent and frankly stubborn man, refused to give up and let the matter rest unresolved. And so, from time to time a new piece of evidence emerged, some new information that would potentially lead them to the ex-convict. Javert jumped at every opportunity to find the man. In some ways, it was so ridiculous that people started to wonder if there was perhaps more to this story than the old cop-criminal routine they had going on. The end result was that everyone at the station decided to buy a giant mason jar in which they would throw money every time Javert mentioned Valjean.  
  
“Well, I would like to see anyone trying to dissuade him. And _no_ , Basset,” he stopped the man before he could say anything, “it is not my place as his assistant. I want to live till I’m old and grey, you know?”  
  
He shook his head and fished a 5€ banknote from his pocket and threw it in the jar. There was already some money there, enough so as to cover the bottom of it. Not everyone participated in this “game” of course but most people did anyway. There was Rayne (the initiator), Basset, Moreau, Badeaux, and then some people from different departments. No one really knew what motivated them to do it. It was harmless fun, sure, and by no means were they trying to be disrespectful towards their superior. In fact, Javert, despite his gruff and painfully honest persona (and usually it was painful to others, poor people) was respected by everyone. His dedication, sense of duty, and justice but also his talent at catching both lies and people was unparalleled. He was not by any means a nice man; the officers respected him nevertheless.  
  
The doors to the commissioner’s office opened abruptly and outside stepped Javert (don’t you dare call him by his first name), inspector of the first class of the Paris police, looking, to put it mildly, a little angry. However, not so angry as to show any sign of disrespect towards his superior, commissioner Chabouillet, by slamming the doors and so he closed them gently. Everyone got to their work immediately, not to invoke the wrath of the long-haired officer. Basset smartly moved to hide the jar.  
  
“Rayne!” The words were almost barked and Javert’s blue-grey eyes were flashing dangerously, looking around the room almost like a predator stalking his prey. Finally, they fell on his assistant’s blonde hair and he immediately stalked his way.  
  
“Good morning, sir.”  
  
“Not exactly, Rayne. We’ve got a murder to investigate. Patron Minette’s work, no doubt.”  
  
The scowl on Javert’s face would frighten most officers but his blond-haired assistant was used to this sight. Thankfully, even the most hardened criminals have not yet learned how _not_ to feel fear at Javert’s sight. It’s one thing that he was a great inspector and personally put some of the most dangerous criminals behind the bars — there was also his appearance.  
  
Apart from his rather impressive height that allowed him to loom over people and observe the crowds with no problems at all, his chest was quite broad and his legs strong. But the most striking feature was his face. There are those who claim that every person can be compared to an animal and possesses some animalistic features, be it in a given person’s character or appearance. Javert was there to prove those people right. His blue-grey eyes flashing ever so often, carefully looking and assessing every place and every person. His strong brows stuck in an almost permanent frown and thin lips opened in a snarl when irritation stuck him. Black hair, never out of place and with streaks of white, a clear sign of his age, was pulled back in a ponytail. He looked like a hound or a wolf personified, just waiting to be let out to hunt for his prey. Overall, it could be said that despite not being handsome, Javert had this air of ferociousness about him that made him at the same time both intriguing and threatening. There is no need to tell that the criminals of Paris were somewhat focused on the latter.  
  
“Is that what you were… _Discussing_ with the commissioner just now, sir?”  
  
Rayne’s easygoing smile was met with a flat look from Javert and then a snarl of irritation, as if he was reminded of what exactly angered him so just a minute ago.  
  
“Don’t make me regret having you assist me in this case.”  
  
He then straightened his white shirt and black tie and moved towards his desk to get his coat.  
  
“We’re leaving in five minutes. I’ll meet you at the entrance.”  
  
Rayne sighed to himself, dejected, and sat down at his desk. Today was shaping out to be really great.

* * *


	2. About the murder and premonitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The place of murder seems to hold many questions but it also gives one important answer...

“Cause of death?”

Javert walked into the crime scene with a question already on his lips — poor medical examiner almost jumped when he heard him. However, he quickly collected himself and looked at the inspector.

“Strangulation.”

“Montparnasse?”

“Very probable.”

Javert only murmured something under his breath. He read the victim’s file before he came here and the poor sod matched the profile of Patron Minette’s latest victims. He was the third one in the span of two weeks which was somewhat unusual for them. Patron Minette was engaged in different kinds of illegal activities. From robberies and smuggling to blackmail and murders — whatever the act, this gang has probably been involved. And yet the “serious” crimes as _some_ dubbed them (Javert would later berate them and say that every crime is serious, no matter the deed) were truly rare. So, why now of all the times? Why murder so many people?

“Sir? What does it mean?”

Rayne glanced at Javert, looking slightly anxious. No wonder, such an increase in murders was not only going to bring unwanted attention from the media but was also worrisome on its own — it meant more work and more questions to answer. Like “why were the people that were murdered most probably connected to Patron Minette?”.

“Something is wrong here. All these murders did not look like a petty squabble, they were deliberate acts, which means that they started cleaning.”

“Cleaning, sir?”

“Come now, Rayne, I have no patience for these questions. Use that brain which you are rumored to possess.”

Evidently, the inspector's foul mood did not improve even a little after arriving at the crime scene. This meant that either Rayne was going to answer it, and answer it _fast_ , or he could forget about any free time this week. 

“Well… All the victims are pretty young, between 20 and 35. They were never confirmed as the members of the gang but we had our suspicions…”

“Brilliant, you can recite what’s already written in the files. To the _point_ , Rayne.”

The sarcastic tone of the inspector’s voice betrayed his deep irritation. He was looking intently at the body from different angles and searching for any clues as to what has happened here but apparently to no avail. One sharp glance from him made Rayne straighten his back. Think, think, think…

“Maybe… You said, sir, that they were cleaning. Do you mean that they killed the people that are no longer useful for them?”

Javert clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

“Wouldn’t say so.”

Standing up, he started to examine the doors and windows in the room they were in. It was a living room in an old house, presumed to be abandoned, located in the poorer district of Paris. In a word, a perfect place for some underground activity. The closest neighbors were very private people who knew that they should mind their own business if they wanted to live. Javert has already heard from other officers that the interviews have brought no results and that, _of course_ , no one has heard anything suspicious. Figures... 

“I think they got paranoid. Maybe someone snitched and they tried to find out who, tie the loose ends. Look around you, Rayne, do you see any sign of a break-in or even forced entry? If we assume it was Montparnasse… He must have known the victim.”

Javert stood now in the corner and looked at the whole scene. His fingers started tugging at his sideburns, as was always the case when he was stressed or deep in thought. Rayne would say it was a funny sight, only the situation was serious and it was better not to interrupt the inspector. Still, there was one question that just begged to be asked.

“Isn’t that… Good for us, sir? You know, if they have some inside problems we should let them fight. It’s better for the force, less work and all that.”

He realized his mistake the moment the last word left his mouth. Yes, “less work”, brilliant, as if that was something positive in the inspector's books. Javert’s eyes said it all, as he trained his gaze on his assistant with an air of disapproval that was probably felt by Chabouillet back at the station. His superior had this way of making even the most confident of man look and feel small.

“No, it’s not _good_ for us at all” he spat out, frowning “because if they get paranoid it means they will be more _careful_. They will hide, lie low and the only sign of them we would be able to catch would be these bodies.”

He pointed to the strangled man, whose face was twisted in an awful grimace, somewhere between painful and terrified. 

“Are these men presumed criminals? Yes. But they are dead now which makes them victims. Too late to punish them but not too late to catch the scum that did this.”

It was in the moments like these that the true character of Javert really shined. Everyone knew that the inspector was a stickler for rules. It was always this-or-that with him, no in-between. Either you were an honest person and you had nothing to fear or you’ve committed a crime and you’re going to be punished. Javert had no mercy for the criminals. He had nothing but contempt for those who would willingly choose a life of crime instead of striving for being an honest person. He himself knew how hard that can sometimes be, how the circumstances of one’s birth may seem to determine the course of one’s life. But if he could rise above the filth he was born in then everyone should be able to do that as well. _But_ , despite his attitude towards criminals, he had a strong sense of justice for everyone. This man lying in the middle of the room may have chosen the wrong option but now he was nothing more than a victim. Bluish grey eyes looked at the blonde man searchingly, as if to determine whether the message sunk in. He received his answer immediately.

“Of course, sir. I will try my best to help.”

“Good. You can start by collecting every report, interview or anything forensics are going to give us. I want it all on my desk by this evening. The reports from previous murders may also come in handy.”

“Of course, sir.”

Rayne immediately moved towards the doors, leaving Javert with a preliminary report in hand. However, he was stopped by the inspector, whose voice suddenly assumed a strange tone, somewhere between intrigued and angered. 

“Rayne?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell them to bring evidence number 7 to me. I have to see it.”

Javert’s eyes were still glued to the page where a photo of an inconspicuous handkerchief with the initials U.F. seemed to mock him. He squeezed the report in his hand as he bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. 

_He was right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that in the next chapter Valjean and Javert are finally going to meet (in a rather dramatic fashion, may I add).  
> And yes, the tone of this fanfiction is all over the place but what can you do?  
> I dedicate this chapter to my passive-aggressive friend that has to suffer through my obsession with these two.


	3. About the trust or lack thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert is thinking about the case but then someone makes it easier for him. Or harder and more irritating, if you ask him.

It was late evening, when Javert came back, looking somewhat tired. After the visit at the place of murder and examining the whole house — and he was _very_ thorough in his investigation — he concluded that nothing more could possibly be found there. Other rooms have proven to be bare, the neighbors even more silent in the face of the stern man and the whole situation was not looking very good for the police force. The only hope Javert still had was that the body of the victim would have something, _anything_ , that would help them identify the killer. Yes, the inspector thought it was Montparnasse, and — if he allowed himself this temporary arrogance — he would claim that it was _certainly_ that deranged man. But the police dealt with tangible evidence and couldn’t act on a hunch. That’s why the first thing Javert did was to walk straight to his desk.

“Where are the reports and the evidence?”

Moreau, a tall, gangly man who worked as an archivist for the Paris police immediately appeared at the side of the grumpy inspector. He adjusted his glasses and pointed at the papers he held in his hands. There were two quite thick manilla folders detailing the previous murders with notes from several police officers who handled the cases; yes, Javert got them first but he couldn’t be on them all the time, he had too much work on his hands. 

“I have the reports from the previous murders but I’m afraid that I wasn’t able to procure evidence number 7 from today’s crime scene. The lab said they want to look for any DNA traces and only after that they can give the item to you, sir.”

Inspector’s face contorted with barely suppressed annoyance. Everything today seemed to work against him. He sighed heavily and held out his hand, accepting the folders Moreau handed him.

“Tell them to do it as soon as possible. It’s connected to Jean Valjean, I just know it.”

The determination and stubbornness in his voice were unmistakable but Moreau wasn’t able to observe the reactions of the long-haired officer because suddenly Javert whipped his head to the side, frowning and visibly looking for something. 

“Sir?”

Javert could have sworn to you there and then, that the moment he said that cursed man’s name he heard some metallic sound, like a coin being dropped. What’s worse, it wasn’t the first time he thought he heard that. And yet, when he looked around he could only see Rayne and Basset standing not so far from him, laughing about something (some nonsensical joke, no doubt), the rest of the officers were engaged in some work… Nothing suspicious at all. Suddenly, he shook his head and felt as if the long day caught up to him. He released a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his sideburns, thinking about his plans for the rest of the day. It would probably be a good idea to eat something. Javert, once engaged in pursuing the truth and justice, often found himself hungry for cruder things like actual food. Yes, food and then a long night of sorting through everything once more. _Joy_.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days later, the night found Javert in his house, reviewing the files. If any of his co-workers were to see him now… Suffice to say that they would be shocked to find their inspector is something that could resemble casual clothing but what was a sign of so much more. Sitting on a couch with a mug of strong coffee in his hands, his shirtsleeves rolled up, the first two buttons of the shirt undone, he was a picture of a tortured man. Usually immaculately dressed, his clothing signaled one thing clearly — the thing that haunted him had a profound effect on his emotions.

He knew that he should just leave it, focus on more crucial things, like actually finding Montparnasse and figuring out what is happening within Patron-Minette. And yet, it was impossible for him to get the damned handkerchief off his mind. 

“Why were you there?”

The answer to that question seemed to be obvious. What would Jean Valjean want with the most infamous of the Paris’ gangs? They were probably working together! The conclusion seemed almost logical but Javert struggled with it. It wasn’t like Valjean at all. Although Javert would describe the man as dangerous he had to admit, even just to himself in the privacy of his home, that the ex-prisoner was not an aggressive man. At least not aggressive enough to kill another person. The more he thought about it the more this cooperation between Valjean and the gang seemed less probable. What would he gain from it? He was a forger, he could steal identities or create new ones, it was helpful enough for Patron-Minette. _But what would he gain?_

“Damn that infernal man!”

He growled, putting the mug on the table and throwing himself against the backrest. Pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes he thought about how little he knew. Hunting Valjean across the years, encountering him several times and what? Nothing at all. He knew no more than a pedestrian on the street. 

“I am a ninny.”

The clock on the wall was mocking him with its hand pointing at 2. It was useless, he should just go to bed. Suddenly, he heard a very distinct knock and he recognized it immediately, mainly because he taught it to Eponine. 

Eponine Thenardier was the daughter of the _nota-bene_ leader of Patron-Minette. Despite her unfortunate family circumstances she seemed to be an honest person, not at all interested in her bastard of a father’s shenanigans. So, at the age of 15, she reached out to the police, anonymously at first, and told them all she knew about the newest robbery planned by Patron-Minette. This singular occurrence became more common as time went and before anyone knew, the young girl was a police informant. Javert had his issues with that. As a suspicious person by nature, he doubted this girl’s honesty and good intentions. Why wouldn’t she leave her family, just like he left his so many years ago? But, albeit begrudgingly, he had to accept the fact that Eponine was shrewd, had a good head on her shoulders and the information she provided was worth the dubious methods she used to acquire it. 

Javert headed quickly for the entrance — the timing of this unplanned meeting made him tense. He took his gun, just in case, and slowly opened the door just a crack.

“What are you doing here at this hour? I told you to come here only if there is an emergency.”

His voice was rough because of the late hour. The inspector took a glance behind her and to the sides to confirm that no one was with her.

“I wasn’t followed, I’m smarter than that.”

For half a second she looked annoyed but ultimately the slight nervousness and fidgeting came back. She looked at him, uncertain, never moving towards the entrance.

“But… I’m here on someone else’s behalf.”

Javert frowned as he pursed his lips until they became a straight line. These words did not bode well for anyone. Eponine has never done anything like that and to do it now, with the murders happening around? It was not a good sign at all. 

“Whose?”

“Just… Please, answer the question first. If I knew someone that was in the know when it comes to Patron-Minette’s plans... If this person didn’t participate in anything but would willingly offer every information to the police… Would they be charged and put in prison?”

The more he listened to the young girl the more he didn’t like it. He knew she wasn’t talking about herself, they had this conversation before: Javert offered her protection, the status of a key witness but that wasn’t enough for her. So who…?

“Technically, if this person truly did not participate… But who-”

“Would they be put in prison?!”

The desperation in her voice made him stop and consider. Ultimately he shook his head and Eponine gave a shaky sigh.

“Thank goodness.”

“Are you going to tell me what this whole interrogation is about?”

He barked, as his patience was being tested to the limit. She opened her mouth but before she could say anything another voice chimed in. This one was distinctly male and, despite it’s pleasantness, sounded quite pained. 

“I think it would be better if _I_ explained that.”

Javert whipped out his gun, aiming it straight at the pale face of Jean fucking Valjean, who was suddenly standing right before him, holding his side that was bleeding quite profusely. In spite of all that, the man had the _gall_ to smile as he looked into the face of the man who searched for him for so long.

“Good morning, inspector. I’m sorry for this sudden arrival but I’m afraid the matter is urgent and I had nowhere else to go.”

With these words, he fell to his knees, exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghjkl, yes, I used the prompt with the hero appearing at the "villain's" doorstep. Sue me.  
> EDIT: This chapter now has a fanart to go with it, thank you, Crow! Check it out [HERE](https://alexir-s.tumblr.com/post/642432365638156288/javert-whipped-out-his-gun-aiming-it-straight)


	4. About hard decisions and their consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valjean's arrival makes everything so much more complicated. Why isn't there a clear procedure to follow when dealing with that man?

Javert never liked _thinking_ , never saw the appeal of it. There were just so many things that could go wrong with this process, it was easier to have a pre-existing structure and stick to it than contemplate the intricacies of every situation. The situation he found himself in _now_ , however, definitely demanded some serious thought and Javert would not stand for it.

After Valjean — _fucking Valjean_ — almost fainted at his doorstep, his instincts kicked in. He hid his gun, surged forward and with Eponine’s help led the wounded man to the house. Together, they almost dragged him, half-conscious, to the kitchen and sat him on a chair. Already in his mind, Javert was cursing the bloodstains that were inevitably going to appear on the floor and the carpet in the corridor. But he had no time for such thoughts. His eyes turned to Valjean, who was still holding his side and trying to stay awake.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital?”

Javert asked seriously and yet at the same time he was looking for his first aid kit. Oh no, Jean Valjean will _not_ die today. Not before Javert can properly arrest him and bring him to justice himself. 

“Well, I’m a wanted man, for one...”

Valjean’s voice, despite being weak and slightly slurred, still held some amusement that was even better conveyed through the twinkling of his eyes. The older man was used to the pain, he could bear it. At the same time, something in the aura of the serious inspector just screamed danger at him and prevented him from falling completely unconscious. He was certain that if he did, he would wake up chained up to a hospital bed or handcuffed in the prefecture building. He could not allow that — there were things that Javert had to know and lives that had to be saved.

“If you can joke about it then I guess you don’t really need my help after all.”

Javert retorted, definitely not as amused by this situation as the white-haired man. Valjean became more serious and sighed heavily, his face contorting in pain. The knife wound was deep but, from the feel of it and the fact that he was still alive, no organs have been damaged. Once again God was on his side. Nevertheless, it hurt him considerably.

“Patron-Minette would know and they would send someone to finish the job. Besides, it was closer, coming here.”

Well, looking at Valjean’s state no one could be surprised that the distance would be of utmost importance. Javert turned to Eponine, ordering her to bring some fresh towels from the bathroom and then occupy herself with something (no snooping!) so he could concentrate on the task at hand. 

“You’ve got a lot of things to explain.”

“I’m aware. However, if it’s alright, I would prefer to tell you everything later, I’m afraid I’m too weak now, inspector. But I promise…”

Javert scoffed immediately. What good was a promise of a criminal, one that openly admitted to having something to do with Patron-Minette at that? And yet something in Valjean, the sheer gall to come here but also the determination in his eyes, made him reconsider. Ultimately, he will win either way. If Valjean is truly in possession of some delicate information then the police would get the upper hand in their struggle against the gang. If not, well, Javert would be all too happy to just see Valjean behind the bars. 

“Take off your shirt.”

The command was short and cold but Valjean felt that if he was not rapidly losing blood right now his face would get bright red. What an awful moment to react like that and remember about his crush on the police officer before him. Well, no matter, there were more pressing issues at hand. The white-haired man pulled himself together and took off his shirt with great difficulty because as soon as he raised his hands he felt as if his whole left side was on fire. Not willing to show any sign of weakness, he clenched his teeth and looked at Javert who was thankfully too busy with the medical equipment to notice his discomfort.

From this moment onward, the only sounds heard from the kitchen were Valjean’s painful hisses and Javert’s angry snarls ( _will you **stop** twitching?!_). It was half an hour till the wound was stitched and dressed, the tight bandages pressing slightly uncomfortably against Valjean’s skin. Meanwhile, Eponine fell asleep on the couch in the living room, exhausted and emotionally drained.

Javert found himself at a loss. Here, right before him, sat a man he chased down through thick and thin. Technically, now that his life was not in danger, he could drive him right to the prefecture building and just close this bloody case. He wasn’t obligated by any law to listen to what Valjean had to say and then act based on it. Such situations were left to the discretion of the individual officers and if he was being honest with himself, he felt like Valjean’s tale was going to bring him more trouble than it was worth. 

_Why are there no clear procedures to follow?_

He bemoaned his current prediction and crossed his hands on his chest, looking decidedly unhappy with the whole affair. 

“Now, explain.”

Valjean looked at him as if he wanted to beg for just a moment of rest, just three hours of sleep but ultimately decided against it. And so, Valjean’s tale began. He told him about his daughter, Cosette (a girl that was presumably kidnapped by him since the mother couldn’t sign the necessary papers before her death), about the honest life he had now and his everyday struggles of a single father. However, sensing Javert’s impatience, he went straight to the important bits. The boy, Marius Pontmercy, who was being blackmailed by Thenardier and forced into helping Patron-Minette; the fact that apparently, Cosette loved Marius and thus Valjean felt obliged to help that idiot of a boy. Valjean told him about how he joined the gang and tried to foil their plans while at the same time actively seeking a way to get Pontmercy out of this whole mess. How Patron-Minette became suspicious and how the current murders may have been his fault. 

This last confession made Javert angry and Valjean even more guilty than he looked at the beginning of his tale. After all, it was not his intention to arouse suspicion and lead to the situation where the gang was actively looking for a traitor in their midst. 

“That’s why you don’t play vigilante! You should have notified the police and let the law deal with it.”

“Just like the law dealt with me?”

Asked Valjean, angrily, and for a moment in his eyes there was a spark of defiance. No, he has learned not to trust the authority the hard way and he was not going to commit the same mistake twice. At the same time, perhaps paradoxically, Javert as a man was someone Valjean felt like he could trust. He trusted him well enough in Montreuil… Why not now? There was no one who possessed such integrity and a strong sense of justice. Yes, he was aware that it was a sword that cut both ways but he was prepared for the consequences. He only wanted to see Marius free of Thenardier machinations and his daughter happy.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. Still, I can’t change the past, I can only work so that the future is better for everyone. That’s why I want to testify. The only thing I’m asking you for… Please, I beg of you, save the boy and don’t tell Cosette the truth about me.”

Javert didn’t know what elicited a bigger reaction from him — the surprise at Valjean actually _begging him_ for something or the outrage at the fact that the man wanted him to hide the truth. 

The inspector was weighing his options. His cold eyes were calculating as he was looking at Valjean, who seemed to be exhausted but in his desperation determined to hear the answer to his plea. Tugging at his sideburns, Javert was thinking what to do… He frowned, looked at the floor that was stained with blood and a shirt that was currently crumpled near the chair. Arrest Valjean and be rid of him once and for all? Or accept his deal and crack down on Patron-Minette? The silence was tense and Valjean started fidgeting in his seat, awaiting the words that were to come as if they were a sentence. In a way, they were. Finally, Javert raised his gaze and looked straight at Valjean. 

“We’re going to the police station, _right now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to end this chapter differently but the length is right and felt like this would be preferable. Anyway, I dedicate it to Eli and Crow who are my sources of inspiration and great motivators.  
> Also, speaking of Crow, THEY DREW THIS AMAZING ART TO THE END SCENE FOR CHAPTER 3, CHECK IT OUT [HERE](https://alexir-s.tumblr.com/post/642432365638156288/javert-whipped-out-his-gun-aiming-it-straight)


	5. About the importance of being even-tempered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people are not who they appear to be. Also, there comes a time in every man's life when he must ask his boss one important question.

Valjean shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, looking around and trying to fight the urge to flee. The prefecture building was mostly silent, the officers on the night shift occupied mainly by their reports or whatever they have seen on their phone screens. Sadly, it looked like he could not escape the attention of a few curious people who looked at him with unbridled interest. After all, it wasn’t every day that inspector Javert marched into the building at 4 am and demanded commissioner Chabouillet to be called immediately. A strange, visibly wounded man at his side was a natural curiosity. 

They waited in silence, Javert playing with his snuffbox he held in his pocket, Valjean pensive, trying to keep himself awake despite the weakness he felt in his limbs. The blood loss affected him more than he thought it would but the constant burning of the recently stitched wound and his uncertainty when it came to his fate kept him conscious. From time to time he sent furtive glances at the man at his side, wondering what was going on inside his head. Would he agree to his request? Would he chuck him back into a cold cell and leave him there to await justice? The lack of handcuffs on his hands suggested that maybe Javert would be… Well, merciful would be an exaggeration. Reasonable, then.

“I hope you’ve got a good reason to call me there at this hour, Javert.”

A tired voice of the commissioner reached their ears and soon they could see the man himself, approaching them and still rubbing his eyes. Javert straightened but before he could say anything Chabouillet noticed the white-haired gentleman standing next to his inspector. He stopped and his eyes got wider, as if he couldn’t believe that what he was seeing was not a figment of his imagination, an effect of drowsiness. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

He breathed out, still looking at Valjean who tried to smile politely, despite his predicament. After all, it would do no harm to make a good first impression, wouldn’t it? Although this was Javert’s boss so he could guess that it was far too late for first impressions. No doubt the inspector has already painted him in an unfavourable light. No, Valjean thought, he shouldn’t think like that. Javert was an honest man, he would have said the truth, no more and no less. Exactly what Valjean deserved. 

Chabouillet looked between the two men, suddenly looking far more alert than he was just a minute ago, and pointed to his office. 

“I believe it would be better to discuss the matter privately, wouldn’t you say?”

Javert pressed his lips together and gave a stiff nod. He wanted to move forward but a gentle yet firm hand stopped him. Blue-grey eyes flickered with surprise as Javert looked at his superior.

“I think I would like to have a conversation with monsieur Valjean alone. Then, of course, you are free to give me your report.”

For a moment the taller man looked as if he was going to argue. The subtle changes of his expression, the twitches of muscles betrayed his inner turmoil. He wanted to _be there_ , he wanted to see what Valjean was going to say, to warn Chabouillet if the criminal attempts to lie… Javert stopped himself right there. Commissioner was his superior, he would know better whether Valjean lies or not.

Stepping back, he sent one last withering look at the white-haired man and bowing his head, went back to his desk. He watched as Chabouillet led Valjean to his office and shut the door behind them. Now… He can only wait. 

* * *

Rayne could not stop himself from bouncing on his feet. Two days! For two days Jean Valjean was in their custody. Well, he still remained here but keeping him there longer, in the holding cells at their station, would go against the law. 

The whole precinct was abuzz with rumours, speculations and hushed conversations. Some have said that their inspector finally found Valjean two days ago, fought with him, wounded and then dragged to the prefecture building. Others said that Valjean was already stabbed and did not resist the arrest. Throughout it all, Javert remained silent, thoughtful as he never was. Yes, he scoffed at their speculations, barked harsh reprimands and demanded that they mind their own business but he remained silent. Rayne did not understand that, it was so exciting! After years of hunting him, Valjean was finally in police’s custody! 

“Have you talked with him?”

Basset asked from his side, subtly pointing to the inspector with his head. 

“No, but I’ve seen Gisquet himself and the prosecutor general! Wonder what’s that all about.”

Basset looked intrigued as he scratched his goatee. It had to be something big if the prefect of the police came here but did Valjean really warrant such a reaction? He, like most of the people working with Javert, was familiar with the case of Jean Valjean and while yes, the man was cunning, he was not exactly the world’s most dangerous criminal. There had to be something more to it. 

“No idea. But let me know if you’ve got some new information.”

He looked at Javert out of the corner of his eye. The man looked stressed out, tense and impatient, drumming his fingers against his desk top. And he was actually silent! No words about Valjean — the jar was always close at hand in case the inspector wanted to go off on a tangent about the man — and no words about what occurred two days ago. Strange. 

Rayne shook his head and decided to conduct a small investigation himself. He left Basset behind and headed for the holding cells, wanting to see the criminal Javert talked so much about. Maybe they would even converse for a short while, although he guessed he wasn’t supposed to do that. Before long he could see the man himself, sitting on a bench, head bowed, lips moving in what was probably a silent prayer. To be honest, Rayne expected something… More. 

The man did not look threatening at all. He appeared to be of short stature with soft, white locks that fell around his head like a halo, trimmed white beard that made his face look gentle and unassuming clothes under which he hid the bandages left there by a doctor. The man suddenly stirred and before Rayne knew, gentle green eyes were looking at him with curiosity. 

“Ah, my apologies, I haven’t noticed you there. Is there something wrong?”

Rayne was once more taken aback. The soft voice and the smile on the criminal’s face just threw him off. _This_ was the man Javert was so obsessed with? This was the man that evaded capture for so long and was a source of the inspector's endless frustration? Although… The more he thought about it the more the speculations about the true nature of the relationship between Valjean and Javert seemed to be true. 

But no, he should be reasonable. This man may yet prove to be dangerous, just a beast behind the facade of a benevolent older gentleman.

“Ah, no, nothing at all. I just came to… Check whether you need anything.”

The doubt on Valjean’s face said it all, he clearly did not believe him. Despite that, he shook his head gently and smiled.

“No, thank you. You’ve been more than kind already.”

He wasn’t exactly lying. The cell he was in brought back bad memories but there were no handcuffs on his wrists, no cudgels, shouting or unwanted company. They called a doctor to dress his wound again and even gave him some healthy food. Overall, it was not bad at all. The only thing that bothered him was the uncertainty. He was asked to talk with Chabouillet, then with the prefect himself… But when will they tell him what was to become of him? There were precious lives to save while he was just sitting there, useless.

“You’re all the precinct talks about, y’know?”

Valjean seemed to be embarrassed by that. The last thing he wanted was attention, especially from other officers. Although... He was done for either way, wasn’t he? He hoped that Cosette would not see the news of his arrest. 

“We’re all curious about the man that our inspector talks about all the time.”

As if startled, Valjean looked at Rayne, uncertain how to react to this statement. Javert… Talked about him? Well, knowing him it was probably closer to raging than talking and yet… **And yet...**

_'What a hopeless fool I am…'_

He thought and shook his head as if to drive away the intrusive, stupid thoughts. Rayne on the other hand suddenly turned watchful. What kind of reaction was _that_? Ultimately, he decided not to press the subject, as Valjean himself did not seem to know how to respond. He left the man to his thoughts, returning to his own desk. Hopefully, Javert did not notice his absence. 

* * *

Indeed, Javert had no idea about Rayne’s whereabouts, mainly because he had been summoned by Chabouillet. Standing at attention in front of the commissioner’s desk he waited for any clue as to what this meeting was about. Well, he had his guesses (Valjean) but the man’s countenance and his careful looks made him nervous. He’s not going to like it, isn’t he?

“Javert, you’re not going to like what I have to say…”

A wonderful beginning of a conversation that’s probably going to make him angry. Still, he said nothing, waiting for Chabouillet to elaborate. 

“As you know Gisquet was there, as well as the prosecutor general. We’ve been talking about the information monsieur Valjean is going to provide and judged it important enough.”

“Important enough for what, sir?”

The commissioner just sighed, stood up, raised a piece of paper and showed it to Javert. He kept talking, while the inspector was reading. 

“Patron-Minette is dangerous and we can not keep him here or let him go free, it’s too risky. We need his testimony, Javert. He needs protection. So we thought it best that monsieur Valjean is guarded by someone trustworthy, someone who will watch his every move.”

Chabouillet was calm, after all this decision was not unreasonable. Javert on the other hand, was getting more and more agitated the further he read. “Informateur” and “protection de témoin” seemed to be mocking him from the page, laughing at his expense. They made him a _key witness_ in this case? They were willing to _pardon_ him and grant him protection?! 

“Before we can crack down on Patron-Minette, Jean Valjean will have to live with you.”

Silence in the room was deafening. Javert stilled unnaturally, looking like a sculpture more than a man. All the emotions were boiling behind his eyes that were flashing angrily. Suddenly, his hand landed on the desk top with a resounding _smack_ and the look on the inspector’s face was somewhere between shocked and outraged.

“... ** _WHAT_ _?!_** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asdfghjk, there we go, folks! Liked it, hated it? It certainly gave me a lot of joy to write.  
> Special thanks to NightOwl for giving me the French names for "supergrass" and "witness protection program". <3  
> Also also, check out these wonderful drawings of Javert (in the previous chapters) being sassy and having a breakdown made by mu-mumie [HERE](https://mu-mumie.tumblr.com/post/642647695839887360/my-brain-is-for-once-obsessing-over-things-in-a)


	6. About the dangers of falling asleep and surprising discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some hardships that come with living together with your enemy. For example, some things may be discovered.

After Javert calmed down and all the formalities were completed, all that was left to do was to drive Valjean to his home. _His home_. As if it wasn’t enough that Valjean was apparently getting pardoned, no! The universe had to rub it in Javert’s face, he had to protect the man he hunted.

_What a fucking joke…_

He thought, gripping the steering wheel of his car, trying to ignore Valjean sitting in the passenger seat. The man, thankfully, was quite exhausted after a long day, still recovering from the stab wound and — quite wisely, might he add — decided to remain silent. The air in the car was tense enough as it was, no need to light the inspector's already short fuse. 

They arrived much faster than the inspector would have wanted. To let a criminal into his house, to sleep under one roof with him… He doubted he would get much sleep in the coming days. After all, who knows, it might all be a ruse and Valjean might try to kill him in his sleep. And yet when he looked at the man he reluctantly had to admit to himself that he was exaggerating. Valjean was a forger, a con but not a murderer, never that. There were some lines that Javert was sure the man would not cross.

“Follow me.”

The clipped order was the only thing Javert said after he exited the car and opened the door to his house. And to think that it was only two days ago that Valjean, bleeding and asking for help, dared to step his foot into his home. Now he was to live there — later on his things were to be brought by Rayne or Badeaux… 

“There are a few things we have to talk about.”

Javert turned towards the man who was duly walking behind him, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. There was something deceptive about Jean Valjean. The man looked too soft, too innocent for you to believe he was a criminal. Many were fooled by this almost grandfatherly facade he put on but not Javert, never Javert. If anything the man’s softness seemed to make him even more suspicious. The inspector was not used to gentle things, kind words or soft glances from the criminals. Oh yes, sometimes they tried that when they thought he could be charmed but there was always this underlying harshness, their wolfish nature peeking through. Valjean seemed to be genuine, which made him ever so dangerous. But Javert would not fall for that act. He frowned at the shorter man, crossing his arms at his chest and sneering slightly.

“If you are to live there then there are several rules you have to follow.”

“Of course” Valjean’s soft voice interrupted his speech as the man nodded his assent “I wouldn’t want to impo-”

“Don’t. Interrupt me.”

Javert clenched his jaw, trying to gather what little patience he possessed. Which, admittedly, was not a lot.

“My bedroom is absolutely off-limits, you are never to cross the threshold unless it is a life or death situation. As I do not foresee such a thing happening — keep out. Secondly, I do not want to see you snooping around and believe me, I will know if it happens. Finally, I think it’s better for both of us if we don’t get in each other’s way too much. Is that understood?”

For a moment Valjean looked at him as if he wanted to talk back, to defy his words but ultimately he just nodded.

“Perfectly. May I contact my daughter? Just for a short while, to tell her I’ll be working away for some time?”

Valjean, like always, was thinking about his poor Cosette. She has not seen him for over three days, she was probably beside herself. Especially now with that… Boy out there. But a few comforting words from him would certainly not go amiss. 

“Once Reyne or Badeaux bring your things you will be allowed to send some messages but I have to be there when you do it. Because trust me, Valjean…”

Javert stepped a little closer so Valjean had to actually look up to look into the cold blue-grey eyes of the inspector who looked at him like a hawk, waiting for any sign of movement so that he could attack.

“If you step one toe out of line, _I will be there_.”

They stood just inches away from each other, Javert vigilant, Valjean a picture of serenity. A moment passed, then another. Seeing that his words had no effect on the man, Javert huffed and stepped back, deciding to lead Valjean to the guest bedroom. To be quite honest, he never knew why he had one since he never had anyone over. Usually, he used it as a room to spend his free time in, for example, to read (which, to be honest, would make it a chore room). Still, apparently, it was to be used now. He tried not to think about it. The coming weeks would prove to be difficult, he just knew that. 

~*~

Five days have passed and Valjean and Javert developed what can be called a delicate balance. They ate breakfast together, Javert pointedly ignoring the man, reading the morning newspaper and answering the messages from his subordinates. Despite the fact that he was basically obliged to stay at home he refused to let his work rest — the daily reports were delivered to his house, he wrote instructions for Rayne and still tried to think about a way to catch all members of Patron-Minette. Valjean’s information, he loathed to admit, proved invaluable in predicting their movements or pinpointing the exact locations of their hideouts. However, the plan was still being developed and Javert could do nothing but wait which proved to be a challenge. His nights were fitful, the knowledge that someone else was in the same house as him and that this someone was Jean Valjean turned out to be more of a problem than he thought. That’s why he found himself in his office, sitting at his desk and pondering the next move the police should make, not even noticing the fact that he was slowly falling asleep. His head hit the surface of the desk gently and his body gave in to the exhaustion.

Valjean had to admit that living with Javert was everything he imagined it to be. Not that he imagined such a thing happening, it’s just… He was not surprised. The inspector was as strict privately as he was on duty, although one may doubt this man was ever off duty. He carried himself so stiffly, always looking at everything with his typical suspicion that Valjean thought that… Well, it must be exhausting. He observed the man, looked respectfully around his flat but he saw almost nothing that would give him any clue as to the man’s character or personality. Or, rather, it gave him enough clues to make him sad. 

There were no pictures on the walls or the shelves, no trinkets or personal possessions that would show that this man has a life besides his job. The only person visiting him was that kind young man called Rayne and even he, despite caring for his superior, only came here in a professional capacity. The only surprising things he discovered was that Javert had a deep dislike for reading books ( _I don’t see the point of entertaining foolish fantasies_ , he said once in a rare moment of actual willingness to hold a conversation with Valjean) and love for stars (that, however, the ex-con discovered alone, catching the man sitting by the window in the middle of the night and observing them through the telescope). 

Valjean also noticed how tired Javert has been lately. It was evident by the shadows under his eyes and his generally less than agreeable mood (more so than usual) that he wasn’t sleeping well. Valjean loathed to think it was his fault — he tried to help Javert somehow but how does one approach such a man with concerns about his health when the man in question doubts that any word coming from your mouth is true? 

It was some hours ago that the inspector disappeared behind the doors of what Valjean only assumed was his office. He creased his brows in concern — maybe he should talk with the man about this whole situation? They can’t carry on like that.

With this newfound resolve, Valjean started preparing a green tea for himself and some strong coffee for the inspector. When they were ready he took them and confidently walked towards the closed doors. The white-haired man hesitated for only a moment before knocking. No answer. Valjean started to worry, his knocking became louder. Still nothing. He worried at his lip and after some inner battle with himself, he decided to open the doors. 

Behind them, he found an office that, paradoxically, had more personality than the rest of Javert’s flat. The dark wooden furniture was old but well taken care of. On the shelves there were neat stacks of documents and folders, all undoubtedly organised according to a well-thought-out system but there were also some photographs that Valjean only skimmed through. The heavy desk currently served as a pillow for the tired inspector and the man himself was breathing deeply as he slept, his shoulders and face more relaxed than Valjean has ever seen. He actually looked, well, handsome. With no frown on his face and no snarl to twist his lips in an ugly grimace he looked younger. His sideburns were not as angry as they usually seemed and long hair... 

Valjean didn’t know how long he was standing there, two steaming cups in his hands, just staring at Javert. He shook his head and looked to the side, for the first time since coming into this room catching sight of something far more intriguing than the photographs on the shelves or even the sleeping inspector. Looking at the pinboard hanging on the wall he came face to face with… Himself?

There was no doubt in his mind that it was him in the photograph. Younger, yes, but it was him and at the centre of [the board](https://alexir-s.tumblr.com/post/642967405717504000/hunting-valjean-across-the-years-encountering) there was a card with a big question “where is Jean Valjean?”. The whole thing was just a mind-map, straight out of a crime show. The red wool lines connected different cards with various information. He shivered when he saw the one about Montparnasse — he so hoped the boy would leave that awful life behind him. However, another card cheered him up enough. Written in an elegant hand it asked Javert to rest. A small smile appeared on his lips; there was no doubt in his mind that the note was written by monsieur Chabouillet.

Another note drew his attention, again one about himself. He snorted when he read about his “ugly yellow coat”. It wasn’t ugly! It was festive! And yet what truly surprised him were two notes — one about his, _khm_ , personal affairs and then a sketch of his chest with the brand that was there, a mark of shame to be carried through his life. The drawing was very accurate, Valjean could see the precision of the strokes, the determination to create an accurate representation of what was to be portrayed. Then, his heart stuttered for a moment. Was it Javert’s drawing? Valjean doubted that the inspector had it commissioned and the other drawings on the pinboard were all similar in style. The ex-convict had no idea that Javert could draw like that. There was also another matter… The fact that Javert had a pinboard dedicated to him and to Patron-Minette...

Suddenly, he jumped a little when he heard a dangerous, low voice, still rough from the recent sleep.

“And what, pray tell, do you think you’re doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three weeks I come to you, humbly asking your forgiveness. It was a hectic time but finally I managed to write another chapter.  
> Special thanks to Crow for giving me an idea with the pinboard and actually drawing it (it's mostly accurate) — [SEE IT HERE](https://alexir-s.tumblr.com/post/642967405717504000/hunting-valjean-across-the-years-encountering)  
> Please, leave kudos and comments, since they motivate me to write. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Javert here is based both on the brick and the musical (especially Philip Quast's version).


End file.
